


Counting Goats

by serenelystrange



Category: Leverage
Genre: Brotherly Affection, Family Feels, Gen, Hair Braiding, Hair Brushing, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-18 06:28:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28987833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serenelystrange/pseuds/serenelystrange
Summary: For Lacy073 - Thank you for participating in the Leverage Secret Santa Exchange this year!When a job turns Parker's hair into a matted and knotted mess, only Eliot can save the poor girl from herself!Featuring brotherly/protective Eliot, set vaguely pretty much anywhere in the series!
Relationships: Parker & Eliot Spencer (Leverage)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 20
Collections: Leverage Secret Santa Exchange (Mod Gifts)





	Counting Goats

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lacy073](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lacy073/gifts).



“Just sit still,” Eliot chides, pushing down on Parker’s shoulder when she tried to push herself to her feet.

“Just chop it off,” Parker says, huffing.

She’s got an icepack against her jaw, courtesy of a small time thug with delusions of grandeur. The ensuing fight in the heavy rain had left the thug unconscious and tied up, but it had also left Parker’s hair a ratty, knotted mess from the fray. Even a shower with Eliot’s fancy conditioner hadn’t broken up all of the tangles.

“If I chop off all the tangles, you won’t have any hair left,” Eliot snorts.

“It’ll grow back,” Parker says, but she slumps forward slightly.

She’s sitting on Eliot’s couch, with him standing behind, detangling spray and comb now in hand.

“Will you at least let me try?” Eliot asks, frowning at the mess of hair.

Parker rolls her eyes but eventually shrugs.

“Fine,” she says. “Do your hair magic or whatever.”

Eliot sighs.

“It’s basic hair care, Parker.”

Parker mouths the words back at him mockingly, and even though she swears that he can’t see her, Eliot tugs at a particularly rough knot in retaliation.

“Alright, alright,” she says, surrendering.

“Thank you,” Eliot says quietly. He’s always quieter when it’s just the two of them, Parker finds. She doesn’t mind.

He sprays her hair liberally with the detangling stuff, and Parker coughs dramatically at the puff of product that surrounds her entire head. Eliot ignores her in favor of massaging the spray into her scalps and working it down her long blonde hair in sections. Parker groans at the sensation, leaning the bruised side of her face harder into the ice pack.

Behind her, Eliot snickers.

“Even you can’t deny the power of a good scalp massage,” he teases.

“It’s making me sleepy,” Parker says, yawning widely.

“That’d probably be the adrenalin crash,” Eliot says.

“Shh,” Parker says, waving her hand in the air dismissively. “I don’t need your probably accurate logical assessment.”

“Only my hair magic?” Eliot asks, focusing on one small patch of her hair at a time with the detangling comb.

“And your ice pack,” Parker mumbles, words mushy from behind said ice pack.

“I’ll make you some hot chocolate after,” Eliot says, grinning at Parker’s pleased hum of response.

After what Parker swears is ten years, Eliot runs his fingers through her hair without tangling once and declares it done.

“Hair magic,” she says with awe as she runs her own fingers through her softened hair.

Eliot just rolls his eyes and takes the now melting ice pack from her hands on the way to the kitchen.

“Marshmallows?” he asks as he gets the hot chocolate stuff ready.

Parker grins.

“Obviously.”

After hot chocolate and the cookies Eliot had pulled out of a fancy metal tin in one of the kitchen cabinets, Parker is back on the couch, the day finally catching up with her. Eliot leaves her to rest as he goes to shower and change, and by the time he comes back, Parker is half asleep against the arm of the couch.

“You should get some sleep,” he says, gently.

Parker’s jaw is less inflamed now, though he’s sure it’s going to bruise something awful come the morning. She still winces when she looks up at him though, and the thought fills him with rage at the pathetic thug that had dared hit her.

“I can go home,” Parker offers, moving to get up, stopping when Eliot holds out a hand.

“Not half asleep and possibly concussed,” he says. “You can sleep here, I have a guest room, you know.”

Parker nods and yawns again, eyes fluttering closed with the motion.

“I’ll mess up all your hard work,” she says, snickering and pointing at her hair. “I toss and turn most nights.”

Eliot regards her for a moment, stifling the urge to offer her a comforting hug.

“Hold on,” he says, before disappearing into his bedroom.

He comes back with a hair tie in hand and moves to stand behind Parker again.

“I can braid it if you want,” he explains. “That way it won’t get all tangled even if you do sleep restlessly.”

Parker shrugs and nods her acquiescence, leaning forward slightly so Eliot can reach her hair.

“Normally I’d do a French braid,” Eliot says conversationally. “But I don’t think you’ll be conscious long enough for me to finish it.”

Parker laughs softly at that and shrugs. He has a point.

“You learn to French braid hair from one of your model dates?” she teases.

“Very funny,” Eliot says, flicking her gently on the back of an ear before getting to work on her hair.

After a quiet minute, he speaks again.

“My mama taught me,” he says. He keeps his eyes on the hair in his hands as the weave the braid slowly.

“Oh,” Parker says, cringing slightly. “I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s ok,” Eliot says. “It’s a good memory.”

He finishes the braid and ties it off without fuss, avoiding the sympathy he knows will be in Parker’s eyes if he looks.

“My mom taught me to pick locks,” Parker offers, giving Eliot a small smile as she stands up and stretches out the kinks in her shoulders.

“Of course she did,” Eliot laughs, kindly.

“She wasn’t a criminal,” Parker says, feeling an unexpected surge of protectiveness for someone she hasn’t seen in over 20 years. “She just liked solving any kind of puzzle. We used to buy a bunch of used locks from the thrift store and practice breaking into them.”

“That’s sweet,” Eliot says. “Kind of.”

Parker shrugs, and gives him a wry smile. “It’s a good memory.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” Eliot says, breaking out in a yawn. “Come on, let’s get some sleep, I think we’ve had enough emotional sharing for one night.”

Parker snorts a laugh and agrees.

When Parker is finally tucked up in bed in Eliot’s spare room, she finds herself unable to fall back into the easy sleep she had been drifting into on the couch.

“Hey,” Eliot says, appearing at the doorway. Parker looks over at him, flexing her fingers around the plush comforter.

“I’ll check on you in a couple of hours, ok?” he asks. “Just to make sure you don’t have a concussion.”

Parker frowns.

“What about you?” she asks. “You definitely got hit way more than I did.”

“It’ll take more than a few second rate thugs to get through this thick skull,” Eliot says with a self-deprecating laugh.

Parker considers it and then nods.

“Ok,” she says. “But you wake me up and then I’ll stay up for a few hours and make sure you don’t go into a coma or anything.”

“Deal,” Eliot says, moving to leave for his own room.

“Hey, El?” Parker calls out, stopping him when he’s only gotten a few steps away.

“Yeah?” he asks, coming back to lean against the door-jam again.

Parker looks down at her hands as she speaks.

“You think you can stay with me for a little while?” she asks. “Just until I fall asleep?”

Eliot looks surprised by the request, but hides it quickly, schooling his face into a neutral expression.

“Sure,” he says, settling next to Parker and propping himself up against the headboard.

“Thanks,” Parker says, quietly.

She stretches out in the bed and settles herself in the blankets, breathing in the fresh scent of whatever laundry detergent Eliot uses on the bedding.

“Just close your eyes and count the sheep,” Eliot whispers.

He reaches out and rubs a hand down Parker’s hair in a soothing motion, tracing the braid with his fingers.

“Gonna count goats,” Parker says, already half asleep. “Jumpy little fuckers.”

Eliot just smiles and shakes his head fondly.

Before he can even respond, Parker is fast asleep, bathed in the soft light from the dimmed hallway wall lamp.

Eliot decides it can wait until the morning. He sets an alarm on his phone for two hours from then, and finally closes his eyes, Parker’s steady breathing soothing him to sleep.

THE END


End file.
